Victors
by tansypool
Summary: In which Katniss and Peeta were the Victors of the 72nd Hunger Games. Their charade of being in love enough to defy the Capitol has to be maintained while a rebellion simmers.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** this is at present unbetaed. I'm testing the waters for this type of fic. Comments are appreciated.

This is canon divergent - the main detail changed is that Katniss and Peeta won the 72nd Hunger Games, as opposed to the 74th. The events of the books still happen - just far more slowly.

* * *

"The victors of the 72nd Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

As we're presented to District 11, my hands shake as I hold the cue cards Effie has written out in precise yet flowing script. I want to throw caution to the wind, speak from the heart, incite the very rebellion that Snow wishes me to quell. But something tells me that that would end so very badly.

Instead I read from the cards. Peeta and I thank District 11 for their courtesy and recite various praises to the Capitol that feel hollow in my mouth.

I only slip away from what I'm expected to say when it comes time to remember the District 11 tributes. Instead of blankly murmuring something in memorial, I allow myself a few words to remember what they did for me.

"I didn't know Thresh, but the time that I spoke to him, he spared me my life, which is a debt that I could never repay to him. I did, however, know Rue. She was my friend. I see her in the birds that fly in the trees of District 12. I see her in the children in the schoolyard. I see her in my sister, Prim. And I wish that she could be here too." I am only cut off by a light squeeze of Peeta's hand – I hadn't even noticed that he was holding mine.

He cuts back to the conclusion as we were told to deliver it: "Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever."

The applause is scattered and empty. I didn't want it anyway.

The rest of the victory tour happens in a blur of _Up, up, up!_s from Effie, speeches read from cue cards, and dinners throughout all of Panem. Districts are quiet, varying in emotion from quiet mourning of their own tributes, to outright anger at us. But despite Snow's words to me before the tour, despite whispers of impending rebellion, the Districts show no signs of anything but angry complacency with the norm.

District 7 reminded me of the woods outside 12. But then we meet Johanna Mason – she won the 71st Hunger Games – and all resemblance between the districts is gone. She's smaller than she looked in the coverage of the Games and the Victory Tour last year, and even more sullen than she was in interviews. I'm not surprised.

In District 5, we say a few words about Foxface's intelligence and skills – how they were admirable. And we learn that her name was Finch. The district's population is remarkably small – almost as small as District 12 – and many of them are frighteningly pale.

District 4 is entered by a quite long bridge, over what seem to be endless miles of water, more than I've ever seen before. We're taken on a tour of a beach and we meet a few of their past victors. I've always been told that District 4 is a Career district, but their Victors are younger than the Victors of 1 and 2. It doesn't seem like their organisation of Careers is as in-depth as in the other Career districts.

It feels like we've been on the train for an eternity yet only a moment when we arrive in the Capitol – to fanfare, to parties, to interviews and costumes and make-up that the Victory Tour couldn't hope to match up to.

At the final party, I meet Plutarch Heavensbee – the new Head Gamemaker. It takes me a moment to place him before I startle and stop in the middle of the dance floor. "You fell in the punch bowl!"

He laughs and keeps me moving. "We should have been able to tell then and there that it was going to be a tense Games to the last minute." We return to uncomfortable silence until the song ends, at which point, he checks his pocketwatch. I see an elaborate mockingjay design carved into the lid. "It's quite the fashion statement, you know."

"What is?"

Plutarch grins. "Your mockingjay. It's everywhere this year." He closes the lid of the watch. "And now I must be off." Seeing my confused expression – it's eleven at night, but Capitol parties can continue close to the morning – he winks, and whispers, "Secret Gamemaker business."

Oh.

Peeta finds me quickly and the night continues in its haze of dancing and photos and overly made up faces. At one point, Effie finds us, and we're soon following her metallic gold wig to the waiting train. Back to District 12.

We arrive early in the morning but are not needed until midday. As we won the Hunger Games, the responsibility of running the Harvest Festival falls to the Capitol rather than the district. Capitol citizens being Capitol citizens, they don't start the preparations until nearly ten. But tonight, every person in the District will be going to bed with a full belly. It almost makes the whole tour seem worth it.

We return to our houses in the Victors' Village for a few hours, until our prep teams arrive at twelve to prepare us for the final televised part of the Tour. Peeta's parents, as well as my mother and Prim, are also made up for their own interviews. Normally, only parents are interviewed, but after half the Capitol fell in love with Prim during my own Games, she's more of the star of the show than I am. And unlike me, she can actually handle it.

My mother gets asked about my supposed relationship with Peeta. To her credit, her response is to glare slightly at him, and to say, "I think Katniss is too young for any sort of relationship!" There's still a camera on Peeta and I, but I take that opportunity to let go of his hand and move away from him.

When Prim is asked the same question, she looks at our mother and pointedly says nothing. The rest of the questions directed at her are more about my dresses and living in the Victors' Village, but she performs well – she's a natural on camera.

With the interviews done, the Harvest Festival commences. Peeta and I have to draw the Victory Tour to a close together, but after that, we are done. And I don't need to keep up the act until the next Hunger Games. Even though I know that for Peeta, it was never an act.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing.

* * *

The 73rd Hunger Games are coming, and it's the last thing I want to think about. So of course it's all I can think about. I hunt on Sundays with Gale in the woods, we sell what we catch in the Hob, and we see children running around – and I can't bear to think that I'll have to mentor children for the rest of my life.

The train from the Capitol arrives late in the evening before the Reaping, which Peeta and I will both be required to attend. However, after its arrival, nobody enters or leaves. I couldn't sleep so I just watch it late into the night, until I'm sure that nobody will be leaving, before I go back to the Victors' Village.

For the reaping, Peeta and I have to be on stage. Neither of us wants to have to walk past the myriads of children trapped like cattle waiting for slaughter, so we arrive well before we're needed. Effie Trinket greets us decked out in green. I guessed that the mockingjay phase has passed, until I noticed her earrings, which dangle and give the birds on them a slight illusion of flight. But that might just be for our benefit.

She teeters over in shoes that may be even more ridiculous than last year's, and hugs us both, then steps back and asks, "How are the lovebirds?"

Awkwardly, Peeta responds, "We're… we're good."

Effie smiles, and says to me with pursed lips, "Your mother isn't letting up then?"

I shake my head. I'll take the last bit of respite from our so-called relationship while I can. Once we're in the Capitol, there will be focus back on us. I'm not looking forward to it, and even if Peeta can actually tolerate the idea of a relationship, I don't think he enjoys the attention either.

Between the end of the Victory Tour and now, our relationship has been cordial at best. I'm happy to deflect it, and while Peeta initially tried to keep something up, I avoided him altogether. I send Prim to buy bread from the bakery, and if I ever saw Peeta, I avoided eye contact. But that's over now, at least for a few weeks.

"Well, she'll have to accept it soon – the entirety of the Capitol is very excited to see you both again! The star-crossed lovers of District 12!"

How she can be so cheerful on today of all days is beyond me.

Peeta and I stand awkwardly next to each other on the stage. Haymitch is off to Peeta's left, in a suit that doesn't look to have been cleaned since before he fell off the stage at last year's Reaping. At least he made an effort, and he isn't having any trouble standing today.

I don't pay any attention to the formal part of the Reaping – the same film as every year, the same speeches as every year. I only turn my attention towards Effie when she steps towards the two glass bowls.

"Ladies first!"

I feel sick. It would be just like the Capitol to draw Prim's name out again, knowing that I can't take her place. But when "Keeley Bright!" is called, I am thankful not to feel any relief.

She steps out of the 13 year old section towards the back. She's a merchant's kid, with long blonde hair, but she's small in stature and quite slight. When she gets to the stage and slowly walks up, I see scabby knees below the hem of her dress, and tears falling from her bright blue eyes. I can't help but think of Prim.

Oblivious to the crying child next to her – or choosing to ignore her altogether – Effie then calls, "And now for the gentlemen!" She digs around in the bowl, before pulling out a slip of paper. "Jason Clearmont!"

A stocky boy steps out of the 18 year old section, glaring. He's a Seam kid and he looks as though he's been working in the mines already. Maybe he has a hope of surviving the Games. He's taller than Effie in her ridiculous shoes – in fact, he's almost twice as tall as Keeley and probably weighs four times as much as her. His face is blank of any emotion except for anger as stands on the stage.

Keeley and Jason don't look at each other. She stares at the ground while Panem's anthem plays; he stares into the distance. They're then ushered into the Justice Building to say their final goodbyes. Peeta, Haymitch and I are taken to the train not long after. We have no goodbyes to say – we know that we will come home again.

When we arrive on the train, Haymitch immediately finds where he'll be sleeping. As is it the first Hunger Games after Peeta and I won, we are expected to be the main mentors for District 12's Tributes. Usually, all past Victors have to come to the Capitol for the Games, unless they can't travel – the reasons for that are restricted to pregnancy and being near death. This year, Haymitch's main priority will probably be the free alcohol.

Peeta and I find our own carriages, then go through to the dining room. We sit on a loveseat in there in silence for a while, and it doesn't take me long to realise exactly why Haymitch turns to drinking. We're probably not going to get these kids home.

It's as that thought swirls in my mind, mutating into images of this year's Tributes dying horrible deaths, that Peeta murmurs, "I don't want to do this."

It's the first time since the Victory Tour that we've been alone together. And there won't be any cameras on us now – we are actually, truly alone. And it's the first time since we were in the arena that I lean closer to him, my head on his shoulder, and his arm around me.

We stay like that until we hear footsteps. It's not Effie – the steps are heavier, and there's only one set. Haymitch walks in before we can move apart. When we do, he only says, "You're going to have to keep that up until we leave the Capitol," and then moves to sit down. He definitely isn't sober, but he isn't as bad as he was last year.

Somebody brings in the first plate of the meal that we'll eat when the train starts moving, so we move to the seats at the table. Hardly a moment later, Effie comes in, and the train begins to move.

"Jason and Keeley are just getting changed, and they'll be in here soon," she announces. "How are we all?"

Three sets of eyes glare at her. How else are we going to be?

The conversation slips quickly into an awkward silence. After far too long of that, Peeta announces that he's going to find the kids.

"I'm going with you." The words come out before I can think about it.

When we're walking through the train, our hands briefly brush together. Peeta startles a little. He looks back at me. "Don't let them make it about us."

I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean by that.


End file.
